


After the Battle

by Nympha_Alba



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nympha_Alba/pseuds/Nympha_Alba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the silence after the battle, Arthur's gaze roamed the field seeking one figure, the one he always looked for first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt _silence_.

AFTER THE BATTLE

 

There was always a silence after a battle, settling over the dead and the wounded, over dying horses and blood soaking into the ground. There was always a great silence after the clanging and grunting and screaming, a heavy silence resting on the shoulders of the survivors as they picked their way wearily across the battlefield. Arthur straightened his back and clutched ineffectually at his bruised side through the chainmail, grimacing as his gaze swept over the field seeking the figure that meant the most to him, the one he always looked for first.

And Merlin was there, still alive, _oh God, thank you,_ still alive but with his red shirt stained a deeper red at the shoulder. He was kneeling on the ground with his head bent, making Arthur's heart clench with fear. Ridiculously brave Merlin who didn't know how to fight and yet threw himself into every battle, surviving miraculously each time.

Swearing under his breath, Arthur wove his way among men and horses to where Merlin was kneeling, reaching out to touch a bony shoulder with his glove.

"You're hurt."

But Merlin wasn't listening; he was leaning over a footsoldier who drew his last shaking breaths clutching at Merlin's hand and trying to speak. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his head fell to one side, and Merlin shuddered with a soundless sob, running his free hand across his face.

Impossible Merlin, giving away his affection so freely, crying so indiscriminately over every loss, so unashamed of his tears.

"Did you know him?" Arthur's voice was rough to his own ears.

Merlin shook his head, wiping his nose with the back of a hand as he got to his feet. "I was just… I tried to… he was scared."

The stain on his shirt was spreading and Arthur wanted to shake him.

"You're injured, you idiot, go and get yourself seen to. I need..." He swallowed convulsively, stopping himself at the last moment. "I need my servant," he concluded lamely.

Merlin looked up then. His eyes were dark and tired, red-rimmed with tears and the sight of too much death, and he reached out and touched Arthur's elbow.

"It's nothing. What about you? Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright," Arthur snapped and jerked his arm away from Merlin's hand as relief brought anger with it. "I'm not a... whoa." He broke off to catch Merlin who was swaying alarmingly, eyes half-closed with pain and exhaustion.

They began to make their way back towards the castle with the silence loud in their ears, Arthur holding Merlin up or perhaps they were holding each other up, as they always did. Merlin's head may have rested on Arthur's shoulder from time to time, and Arthur's cheek may have touched Merlin's hair. All Arthur knew was that if he lost his servant, his stupidly, _stupidly_ faithful and generous servant, his world would lose its colour and this dead, ringing silence would stay with him.


End file.
